Create

My 13 year-old daughter shares all sorts of ingenious decorating and organizing tips with me; Pintrest perusal, a favorite hobby.  Even Todd was checking it out the other night, looking up yard ideas.  It’s not like I haven’t peeked; I just don’t have an account or board or whatever it is.  I just don’t want to be dependent on other creative women for my inspiration; feeling that with a little mental time and space we all have the potential to come up with ways to beautify our homes and lives in ways that feel like us.  With a little ingenuity we can corral our possessions in unconventional and attractive containers and displays.  We have it in us to come up with interesting party decorations on our own.  I suppose it’s pride that prevents me from giving in.  But maybe it’s an innate desire to be original, to create on my own, to use my unique perspective and strengths in distinctive ways.  If we’re honest, we’ll admit we all have those stirrings within in us. But it’s easier to tell ourselves we’re not creative, to lean on someone else’s ideas, to believe our contributions are not worth mentioning.  I wonder if the obstacle in not recognizing our own creativity is that we limit our definition of what it means to be creative.

“The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul.  No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.  Everyone can create.  Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment.  We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty.  What you create doesn’t have to be perfect.  Don’t let fear of failure discourage you.  Don’t let the voice of critics paralyze you—whether than voice comes from the outside or the inside.  You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us.  The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush or pen or the keys of a piano.  Creation means bringing something into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.”*

I’ll be honest with you, playing Pictionary or Telestrations with me is painful.  But I still love them.  I toyed with the idea of Interior Design at one point in college but abandoned it nearly immediately because I am so bad at drawing.  I am absolutely stunned by the artistic hands of some of my friends.  Truly.  Because it’s so awkward for me.  But that’s maybe the point.  We don’t just need sketchers.  We need people who make us laugh, who can find the humor in obscure places.  We need my friend who brightens weddings and funerals alike with her floral arrangements, another who has the absolute knack for cutting and styling hair, others who can coordinate paint and pillow combinations, my daughter who can make an outfit out of random parts and can re-make an old dress from the 80s into something she’d wear to church.  A friend from yesteryear is an accomplished chef on the side, creating works of art from foods I vaguely recognize.  Several children we’re friends with seem like prodigies to me as they gracefully share their affinity for music.  Others we know compose spontaneously on the guitar and piano, just naturally and seemingly effortlessly.  Others grow beautiful produce.  I think of my dad every time I sit on one of his chairs or couches, plush and durable, true works of art.  My sisters are whizzes in their offices, creating order out of chaos.  My mom is a magician, transforming homes to sparkling showcases in a few short hours.  My almost 80 year-old uncle and aunt assemble massive, yet intricate, colorfully coordinated quilts.  My other friend also manages to spurn out beautiful quilts, with a house full of kids by her side.  Amazing feats.  I think of my son’s ability to comfortably arrange words that help us understand his complex ideas and another son’s desire to work with his hands, making knives from old saw blades.  I love the sewing projects, the art work, the messes, the fishing pole holder, the quiver made out of old drainpipe, bound and laced with leather covering, the bike ramps, the foam moccasins, the hair accessories, the shop benches,  all the ways I see them simply enjoying the process of creating.  Rather than worrying whether their products will be good enough.

I wonder when we stopped believing that we have something to contribute.  When did we decide we aren’t the creative type?  Because as a kid I knew I wanted to be an artist when I grew up because I loved my coloring books so much.  I also wanted to sing.  And be a dancer.  I think I started to see those dreams fade as I started to notice how good other people were at things I wasn’t. I started to believe my small efforts weren’t worthy, they were so unpolished compared to what others were producing.  That mindset kept me from developing my unique gifts, from even trying, from feeling confident about sharing my small part.  But what if we decide to uncover the desires we have?  Take off the dust covers, shake off the cobwebs and just tinker.  Just try something for the pure fun of it, just to enjoy the process of creating?

I’ve been wanting to quilt again, it’s been on my list for the past several years since the kids have all been in school.  But I’m not very good at sewing, I’m still just a novice really.  I let that paralyze me for so many years.  But then I gave myself a pep-talk a couple of years ago.  Just start small.  Simple.  Go back to the basics and just start again.  I wanted a blanket, just something warm and homemade for my afternoon naps.  I felt like being creative, like using my hands again.  I love choosing fabrics, I like the feel of material and ironing out its creases.  I marvel how the random patterns and colors merge.  It warms my heart every time one of the family members curls up with one of the quilts I made.  The corners aren’t always exactly matched.  I don’t know how to do fancy anything.  I’m just getting my feet wet after all these years.  But a dormant feeling in me has woken up, it feels good to make something unique, to use my hands to create something out of nothing.  My quilts are hardly worth talking about and nothing like what my aunt and uncle or friend make.  Hardly works of art.  But, surprisingly, that hasn’t mattered to me.  It just makes me happy to do it.

And this feeling has propelled me to notice other small joys I’ve overlooked simply because they don’t seem very impactful.  I like to make bread for people, to cook for my family, to write, to clean, to work in the yard.  But seen under the umbrella of creativity, I can see why I’ve derived joy from these simple acts.  In tiny ways I’ve been creating.  We all are.

Our friend encourages us, “If you still feel incapable of creating, start small.  Try to see how many smiles you can create, write a letter of appreciation, learn a new skill, identify a space and beautify it.  As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you.”

So maybe go back to when you were small, remember what creations brought you joy.  Maybe reframe what you’re already doing and consider how you’re already creating and contributing to the world.  You undoubtably feel something when you’re creating.  Stronger, happier, accomplished, pleased, joyful.  Help your kids experience those same kinds of feelings.  Help them find ways to create.  Allow them to experiment and make messes; because sometimes that's what it takes.  But most of all, teach them how good it feels good to see their creations blessing the lives of others.

see Elder Uchdorf's talk, "Happiness, Your Heritage"

2 minute video clip, "Create," worth a peek